


The Gill-its

by happy_birthday_diane_use_a_pretty_font



Series: Archer High School AU [2]
Category: Archer (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, First Time, Fluff, High School AU, Home for Christmas, M/M, bed sharing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2019-09-27 17:11:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17165963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/happy_birthday_diane_use_a_pretty_font/pseuds/happy_birthday_diane_use_a_pretty_font
Summary: Ray brings Krieger home for Christmas.





	1. Snowball

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Dreamland, Krieger is Jewish in this fic. Also, he’s not American; it’s only been 3 (give or take) years since his dogs ate his father and Malory became responsible for him.

“Ready…”

It was December.

“Set…”

It was snowing.

“Go!”

The students ran from the school building to the mess hall as fast as they could.

“God _ damn _ it!”

A snowball hit Ray Gillette’s perfectly styled head. As soon as he was safely inside the cafeteria, he spotted the culprit. It was Archer, of course, and he was laughing his head off. Ray slipped off his coat and shook out the snow.

“Oh, go to hell,” he said.

“Come on, Ray,” said Archer, grabbing a lunch tray and getting in line. “Don’t be such a Scrooge!”

Ray just huffed. 

He headed over to the group’s usual table and hung his coat and backpack on his chair. He was shivering a little, until he felt warm arms wrap around him from behind. 

“What’s wrong,  _ Liebe?”  _ It was Krieger. 

“Nothin’, now.”

“That’s...kind of gay.”

“Oh, shut your trap.” Ray wiggled free from Krieger’s grasp and faced him, but Krieger just hugged him again. “Hey!”

“You look cold.”

Ray hummed and leaned in, but their cuddle didn’t last long. Pam and Cheryl sat down, and began flinging peas at them with their forks. A pea hit the back of Ray’s head and burst.

“For the love of God, y’all!” 

Krieger took his hand. “Come on. Let’s get lunch.”

On line, Krieger rubbed Ray’s shoulders and listened to him complain. 

“I literally cannot  _ wait _ to graduate,” Ray concluded. 

“There’s just a week until Christmas break. You’ll have time to sit back and relax.”

“No, break is gonna suck.”

“Why?”

“I hate my family.” He felt guilty about that statement, but not guilty enough not to say it. A thought occurred to him, and he turned to Krieger. “Hey, are you going home for break?”

Krieger took his pasta and muttered  _ “Obrigado,” _ but didn’t answer until they sat at the table: “My legal guardians will not be hosting me.”

“Oh.” Ray took a bite of his food. “Are they gonna send you your presents? Don’t you get, like, seven gifts, for each day of Hanukkah or something?”

“It’s eight days. Besides, I’m not celebrating Hanukkah. I’m not practicing.” The other half of that sentence was, ‘ _ and even if I were, they wouldn’t give me gifts,’ _ but he didn’t mention it.

“So, you’re just gonna sit here at school by yourself all week, like Harry Potter?”

“Who?”

“Never mind.”

It was terrible, and he knew it, but Krieger got butterflies in his stomach. Ray was upset, not at him, but on his behalf. He’d never experienced that before.

He rested his hand on Ray’s. “I don’t mind, _Liebe._ ”

Ray minded. He minded that idea a  _ lot _ . No man of his was gonna sit around all through break, neglected and alone, on Christmas of all days. Even if Krieger didn’t care, Ray did, and what kind of boyfriend would he be if he just let this happen?

Archer and Lana sat down then, and the group started an intense, stupid conversation, but in the back of his mind, Ray was hatching a plan.

 

Ray and Krieger were in the locker room. It had been a couple of days since Ray found out Krieger’s pathetic break, and he had decided to execute his plan.

Krieger pulled Ray up and kissed him sloppily. He tasted himself on his tongue and groaned when Ray pulled away. 

_ “O que é isso?” _

“Stop that.”

“Stop what?” He leaned down and bit Ray’s neck.

“Your dumb Portuguese shit! I’ve been trying to talk to you ‘bout this for an hour, but you seduce me every time.”

“Alright. What is it?”

Ray slapped Krieger’s wandering hands repeatedly. “Listen! Jesus!”

“Sorry, sorry!” He straightened up and buttoned his pants. “What is it?”

“Well...Ok, are you sure you’re ready?”

_ “Heilige Scheisse.” _

“Ok, ok! I’m sorry, baby.” He took a deep breath. “I was just wondering if, maybe...Y’know, you don’t have to or anything, but…”

Krieger held Ray’s hand, serious now. “Go on.”

“Do you wanna come stay with me for Christmas? Me and my family?”

Krieger blinked. 

“It’s fine if you don’t. My parents said yes and everything but I can always tell them to go fu-”

Ray was cut off by a passionate hug. 

“So, yes?”

“Yup, yup, yup _... _ Have I ever mentioned how much I’m in love with you?”

“A couple times.” He smiled and kissed his boyfriend. After a minute, he took Krieger’s hand and guided it down, just below his belt. Ray felt him smirk into the kiss as he undid the buckle. “Don’t be so cocky.”

“Phrasing.”

 

Ray thought he’d be relieved when Krieger agreed to come home with him, but during the next few days, he grew more and more stressed. He spent hours on end trying to mentally prepare, but he couldn’t wrap his brain around Krieger in his house. Krieger on his couch. Krieger meeting his parents. Krieger meeting his  _ father… _

He made sure Krieger knew it, too. He briefed Krieger on his family and how to behave without (only partially figuratively) getting murdered. 

“You’re  _ not _ gay, and you sure as Hell ain’t no Jew,” he said. 

“Yup!”

“And no Portuguese!”

“Why not?”

“Sounds like Spanish.”

 

Laying in his bed the night before break began, he wondered why he thought this was a good idea in the first place. Krieger was going to hate his family! Although, he had no idea what kind of background Krieger came from. Maybe his family was just as loud, insufferable, racist, homophobic, uncultured…

He buried his head in his pillow.  _ Doubtful _ .

And besides, he was allowed to hate his  _ own  _ family. If Krieger hated them, he’d get it, but he wouldn’t like it. Not one bit. That’s his family to bother and be bothered by, nobody else’s.

He rolled over. He felt bad for being so critical of his family. It’d break their heart if they knew what he thought. Besides, it was hypocrisy. He was one of them. 

He got up from the bottom bunk, careful not to wake Cyril, and checked his suitcase for the third time since going to bed. 

When he returned, he pulled the blankets up over his face. He felt his stubble and wished he could grow a mustache. Not a Tom Selleck, something more subtle. For the second time that night he thought,  _ Doubtful _ . 

He drifted off to sleep, but didn’t rest. 

 

Archer was facing similar difficulties. This was the first Christmas he’d be spending at home since the eighth grade. He usually didn’t bother, but this year his mother wanted him home because she was actually going to be there.

Archer let his feet dangle off the edge of the bunk. He swung them back and forth as he sipped from his favorite flask. 

When in doubt (or pain, or just extreme reluctance to go home and deal with an overbearing yet neglectful mother), there was always bourbon. 

He was going to be crazy-hungover on his flight tomorrow, but he didn’t care.

 

Krieger was worried. He and Ray were in a small room off the main office, waiting to be picked up, and Ray was obviously agitated. Krieger didn’t know whether or not to make conversation. 

He tried to hold Ray’s hand, but Ray just squeezed and immediately let go.

“I dunno if he’s gonna come in here,” he said. He meant his father. Krieger knew there was tension there, but he didn’t know the extent, so he didn’t question it. He pulled his scarf tighter around him. He was nervous, too, of course. Meeting your boyfriend’s family (even if they didn’t know you were boyfriends) is a famously stressful ordeal. Krieger hope they’d like him. 

After what seemed like a very long time, the school secretary called them out into the main portion of the office. Ray took a deep breath and stood.

In the office stood a large man, much more than six feet tall, but so broad and sturdy that he didn’t look lanky. He was wearing a wool hat, and his blonde hair stuck out the front. He was a little older than Krieger had pictured, although maybe he just looked it; he wasn’t smiling and didn’t look like he ever had. 

Mr. Gillette. 

Ray didn’t say anything. Krieger looked back and forth between them. They had the same nose. 

Finally, Mr. Gillette said, “Let’s go.” 


	2. Mr. Comedian

They all silently piled into the front seat of the pickup truck. Krieger was extremely intimidated by Mr. Gillette. It was awkwardly quiet for a long time.

A few miles down the highway, Ray’s father elbowed his son and said, “C’mon.”

Ray smiled and started talking about family things. It seemed like they were getting along pretty well, although Krieger could barely understand the conversation due to the fact he knew nothing about Ray’s hometown politics, and couldn’t decipher their accent. 

After awhile, Mr. Gillette addressed Krieger. “What’s your name again?”

“I’m Krieger. It’s great to meet you, Mr. Gillette.”

Mr. Gillette took his eyes off the road in order to give Krieger an odd look. “It’s  _ Gillit _ .”

Ray cringed. 

 

When they arrived at Ray’s house, he cringed again. It looked even smaller and Southern-er than he remembered. When they walked in the door, he looked over the clutter and mismatched furniture. The various lamps and candles. The overflowing recycle bin, full of beer bottles, that made the kitchen smell like Michelob Ultra Light. 

Home. 

He was sure Krieger would be disgusted, but he couldn’t have been more wrong. Krieger was totally infatuated. Everything looked warm and inviting and lived-in, the whole house smelled like cooking, and Ray’s mom hugged the two of them with such fervor he found himself wishing  _ he _ had a mom. It was strange; he was accustomed to missing his father, but a mother had never occurred to him.

Mrs. Gillette - who was short, fat, loud, and wonderful - introduced herself and asked Krieger all sorts of questions, most of which he didn’t understand because of that thick accent, but he smiled and nodded and she seemed satisfied. Krieger imprinted like a duckling, and followed her into the kitchen until Ray called him into his room to unpack.

Krieger’s favorite place in the house was Ray’s room. 

Most of the Gillette house was decorated with warm colors (burnt orange wallpaper, red and yellow plaid couches, big beige recliner that was obviously Mr. Gillette’s, maroon carpets so worn they were covered by rugs), but Ray’s small  room was painted blue. The walls were barely visible, though, for all the posters he hung up. Most of them were of buff, sweaty men doing manly things like archery, boxing, or hunting, but there were a couple of pictures of cars and trucks, too. There was one for the show Bonanza. Ray’s bed was pretty small, but it took up most of the space. At the head of the bed was a bulletin board with several dozen fortune cookie fortunes pinned to it.

Ray opened his closet and shoved his suitcase in. He said, “It’s not much, I know.”

Krieger approached Ray and held out his hand. After glancing at the door to confirm it was shut, Ray took it. 

“I love it,” said Krieger. 

Ray glanced at the door again. He kissed Krieger quickly and said, “I think it’s dinnertime.”

 

It wasn’t until Krieger actually sat down at the table and made his plate that he realized: This was the first home cooked meal he’d ever had. At the compound, the agency, and school, everything was prepared in bulk. He’d never sat at a kitchen table with a family and poured a drink, said prayer, and had pot roast before. He really liked it. 

Ray could see how much Krieger was enjoying dinner. He was able to subtly stare since he was at the head of the table, but he still had to be careful since his father was at the other end. 

Everything went really well, for awhile. Then Mr. Gillette started talking. 

He looked across the table at Ray. “Doin’ any sports?”

“Still cheerleading.”

He grunted. “So, no.”

Ray sucked in through his teeth. 

“Don’t do that.”

Ray muttered something. 

“What?”

“Nothin’.”

Randy piped up, “He said he’d like to see  _ you _ try it.”

Mr. Gillette slammed his fist down, knocking his fork. “Was I talkin’ to your dumb ass?”

No one spoke for the rest of the meal. 

When he finished doing the dishes, Ray went to the couch where Krieger was. He desperately wanted to sit on his boyfriend’s lap, but he couldn’t, so he spread an old throw blanket over the two of them and held Krieger’s hand underneath it. He looked at the TV.

“I hate Andy Griffith.”

“Who’s that?”

“The guy on TV…” He had to catch himself before finishing that sentence _...The guy on TV, babe. _

Ray picked up the remote and switched around.

“Oh! Ever seen ‘Rudolph’? It’s on in a couple minutes.” 

“I don’t think so.”

“It’s a Christmas movie.”

“Then definitely not.”

Ray glanced behind him to see if his parents had somehow materialized behind them. They hadn’t.

“What’s it about?”

“Oh my God, it’s adorable.” Ray explained the basic plot. Krieger wasn’t really listening. He leaned his head back and watched Ray talk. His accent was a lot stronger now that he was at home. As the sun set, the room was illuminated by just the glow of the TV and the Christmas lights shining in through the window. Krieger longed to kiss Ray. 

Apparently it showed, because a few minutes into the movie, Ray peeked at Krieger out of the corner of his eye.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he muttered.

“Like what?”

“Like you’re in love with me.”

Krieger stroked Ray’s hand with his thumb and started paying attention to the movie. 

He really liked it. The blonde elf looked a lot like Ray. The moment it ended, it started over again, and when Ray reached for the remote to put on something else, Krieger stopped him. 

Ray cuddled down so his legs were over Krieger’s lap (carefully positioned to make it seem like he was simply stretching out) and watched his boyfriend.

He wished he lived in a world where he could cuddle with his man, and his mom would bring them hot chocolate and say  _ Here y’are, lovebirds, _ and Ray would roll his eyes but secretly appreciate it, and Ray’s father would try and help him out, make him seem more macho by talking about their hunting trips whenever Krieger was around, and Ray would say  _ He’s just exaggerating, _ but Krieger would still be impressed, and Randy would pester them to drive him around town until they threatened to rat him out for weed farming, and he’d shuffle off, grumbling, and they’d laugh and Ray would pull Krieger in by the scarf and kiss his nose and he’d say some German saying his father made up and couldn’t be translated.

But he didn’t live in that world.

The worst part was that worlds like that existed, some boys lived in that reality, but he was stuck in this backwards-ass hick house full of Bible-thumping alcoholics (benevolent and malevolent alike) who’d rather see him miserable and alone than happy, because Jesus.

By the time their second viewing of ‘Rudolph’ was over, it was pretty late. (It was only 45 minutes long, but for each 5 minutes of movie there was about 10 minutes of commercials.) Ray’s father walked in and kicked them out.

“I ain’t sleepin’ in there,” he said, indicating toward his and his wife’s room.

“Are y’all fighting?”

“Nah, she’s outta them snoring strips. Sounds like a goddamn bulldozer.”

 

Ray thought it would be romantic sharing a bed, but it was actually a whole new level of awkward.

He and Krieger lay side by side, not touching, staring up at the ceiling. They’d longed to kiss all day, but now that they were alone, they were paralyzed.

Luckily, Ray had a plan.

He turned to Krieger and said, “I got you something.”

“But it’s almost a week until Christmas.”

“Just look.” He opened his bedside drawer and handed Krieger a little baggie. Inside were pieces of a chocolate bar, wrapped in tin foil with little Menorahs drawn on with Sharpie. “I know Hanukkah started a few days ago, but, y’know. It’s supposed to be gelt.”

Krieger just stared.

“No store around here’s gonna sell that, so I had to make it myself. I hope you don’t mind. I think it’s cute, but I bet real gelt tastes better - that’s just Hershey’s.”

Krieger looked up at his boyfriend. “I love it.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely.” He rolled onto his side and kissed Ray. “And I love you.”

Once the seal was broken, they couldn’t stop kissing. Ray muttered, “I love you, baby,” into Krieger’s mouth over and over.

It got hotter and heavier until Krieger said, “Do you want to…?”

“Do you?”

“We don’t have to.”

They were panting and staring at each other.

“We really don’t.”

“I know, honey, but who’re we kidding?” Ray reached into his drawer again and took out a bottle of lotion.

They didn’t go all the way, but they had fun. Ray had never realized how much better sexual activity was in an actual bed...

 

When Archer entered the apartment, the first thing his mother said was, “What’s wrong with your face?” She crossed her arms (careful not to spill her drink) and looked him up and down.

His cheek was totally red because he’d slept off his hangover with his face against the freezing window of a taxi. 

He knew what she meant, but replied, “I don’t know. Genetics?”

“Oh, great. Woodhouse, dear, why don’t you give Mr. Comedian his dinner?”

“Aren’t you eating?”

Malory responded by taking a sip of her dinner and turning away.

Woodhouse tried to pick up Archer’s luggage and put it away, but Archer snapped. “Don’t touch my shit!” and dragged it into his room. Malory moaned and groaned about the hardwood floor but he didn’t care.


	3. Andy Griffith

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s some tender lovemaking in this chapter, so PSA: I’m not a sexpert - stay safe everybody.

Ray, Krieger, and Randy were all woken up by the sound of Mrs. Gillette yelling for them.

“Up and at ‘em, boys!”

Ray groaned. “We’re  _ tired _ , Mama!”

“It’s 9 A.M., honey lamb, I can’t help it if y’all stayed up late Snappin’ Chats and all. C’mon!”

Ray and Krieger shuffled into the kitchen. Randy remained asleep.

“Mornin’ boys.” She placed a huge plate of pancakes on the table, along with some syrup and butter. She kissed Ray’s head and said, “They’re chocolate chip.”

Krieger said, “Thank you, Mrs. Gillette,” and she turned to him.

“Do you like pancakes, honey?”

Krieger was starstruck. She was smiling at him. “I love them.”

“Then you’re gonna adore mine! Don’t be afraid to use plenty of butter, now, because I’m runnin’ down to the Food Lion later. Have you ever had a homemade Christmas dinner?”

Krieger glanced at Ray, who answered for him. “Nah, he hasn’t.”

“Well, you’re gonna love it.” She spent a few seconds adjusting Krieger’s messy curls and went into the living room.

Krieger smiled at Ray and whispered, “I love your mom.”

“She’s trying extra hard to make you feel at home.”

“Why?”

“I told her you’re an orphan.”

 

Food Lion was fun. Krieger was in charge of the grocery list, and he walked a little behind Ray and Mrs. Gillette, watching them talk while he checked off items. Ray got along with his mom much better than his dad. Krieger listened to their conversation but didn’t interrupt. He was paying more attention to the dynamic than whatever they were talking about, until he heard his name.

“Mama, can me and Krieger take the car later?”

“Where’re y’all going?”

“Dunkin Donuts, if that’s alright.”

“I dunno, baby. It’s kinda far, ain’t it?”

“It’s one exit!”

She thought for a moment. “Alright, but make sure you get Daddy some chocolate-frosted.”

Ray turned to Krieger and gave him a thumbs up. “Will-do, Mama.”

 

The second they got home from the store, Ray helped his mom put away the groceries, threw on his thick flannel and cap, and grabbed Krieger. They hopped in the car and got on the road. 

“Nearest Dunkin Donuts is an exit away, and the highway’s real icy, so this might take awhile.” He handed Krieger the aux cord. “Put on something good.”

Krieger scrolled through his music library and settled on Creedence Clearwater Revival. Ray turned it up.

“Hey, I know this song!” He sang along loudly, and Krieger drummed the beat on his knees. 

_ “Liebe?” _

“Mm-hmm?” He got goosebumps. He’d missed their pet names.

“You’re really cute.”

“Aw, c’mon,” he said. He pretended to be embarrassed, but Krieger saw him preening.

“Why’re we getting donuts if it’s so far away, anyway?”

“It’s Hanukkah? Remember?” Ray grinned at his boyfriend, hoping he’d catch on.

He didn’t. “...So?”

“Jelly donuts, baby! Hanukkah food!”

Krieger smiled and rolled his eyes. 

When they got their donuts, they dug in, and the car was soon covered in powdered sugar. Ray considered pulling into a truck stop and having Krieger fuck his face, but decided against it. His luck wasn’t good enough for gambling. 

He was fiercely tempted, though. It was torture being around Krieger all day and not being able to run his hands through those curls, put his lips against his stubble, lean into his touch. Especially since he was being extra cute; his wide-eyed wonder at family life was adorable.

The frustration made him want to just pounce on top of Krieger and have his way with him in the middle of Food Lion. 

It wasn’t easy for Krieger, either. He frequently had to suppress the urge to put his arm around Ray, or lean over and nibble his ear while they were watching TV. There were several times he had to engage in intense meditation to soothe his body. It was difficult, because most things turned him on at least a little, so once he popped a random boner, there was very little to think about that would alleviate it.

The worst was the evening before, when Ray was eating a candy cane. That in itself was bad enough, but at one point he snapped it out of his mouth to yell at Randy, and Krieger almost got fully hard right there on the couch. On the way out of Ray’s mouth, it had made a popping sound that he recognized from more vulgar settings. 

 

When they pulled into the driveway, Ray cursed. His dad was home.

It’s not that he didn’t love his father. He did. But he was acutely aware of the fact that if Krieger wasn’t around, he’d have gotten a beating that first night at dinner.

Not a bad one, but certainly a few good smacks, and that was still humiliating, which is why he never mentioned to Krieger what really went on. And he didn’t want him to find out. It made him feel like a baby.

It’d stop, soon, anyway, wouldn’t it? He was almost a high school graduate. How long could a man keep on hitting his adult son? 

Ray didn’t want to find out, but he supposed he’d have to be the guinea pig.

Krieger sensed tension. He assumed Ray was justly resentful of his homophobic parents, and stressed from keeping the secret. He didn’t think Ray was keeping a secret from  _ him _ .

But the cat would be out of the bag soon enough.

 

Archer left the apartment with only his varsity jacket thrown over his clothes; he thought his big coat would look stupid. He underestimated how stupid he looked shivering on the subway with bright red cheeks and a runny nose. He didn’t care. He just wanted to be out of the house.

Ice, gravel, and chunks of salt crunched under his feet as he trudged down the sidewalk. New York was always gritty in the dead of winter, no matter the neighborhood. His breath came out in stark white clouds, especially when he huffed at the bigger, bulkier men that shoved past him like he wasn’t there. (Or worse: like he was some kind of shrimp who was just going to take it. Of course, he  _ did  _ take it, but that was beside the point.)

When he arrived at his destination, he tugged the door with confidence, but was startled when it didn’t budge. He tried again. The frigid metal door handle hurt his hand.

He looked in the window of the video rental store. It was hard to see inside, so he tried scraping the frost away, but it didn’t help much. The place was dark, and the inside of the glass was coated with dust. 

Now that he really looked, he noticed that the posters pasted to the window were peeling, as was the paint on the door. He held his forehead to the glass and squinted. The shelves were barren. Archer’s stomach dropped as he realized: the place was closed!

He was outraged. He seized the doorknob and pulled with all his might. He put his foot up against the wall and heaved. 

By some miracle (brittleness from the freezing weather), the door not only opened, but snapped off its hinges. 

Archer glanced left and right. No one was looking. He hopped inside.

It was dusty, and because it was so dark and lonely, it actually felt colder than it did outside. Archer crept among the shelves looking for anything left behind. He didn’t find anything until he got to the counter. The shelves of candy were still partially stocked, and the discount bin had a few DVDs left behind.

Considering all that was left were Red Vines, Chuckles, and 3 copies of “Operation C.I.A.”, Archer inferred that the employees ransacked the place for whatever they wanted before walking out the door forever. He was never one to turn down free shit, though, so he stuffed his pockets.

When he turned around, fear shot through him like hot poison. A man was watching him from the shadows.

No. Just the old Steve McQueen cardboard cutout with a Sharpie mustache. Relief turned his knees weak, but his senses were still heightened. He hightailed it out of there.

 

Krieger was alone in the living room with Ray’s mom. They were watching TV while the Gillette boys cleaned up the dinner dishes and packed away the leftovers (which, with twice as many men as usual and a hungry lady in the house, likely wouldn’t make it until morning). 

Over the sound of ‘The Andy Griffith Show’ and the faucet, Mrs. Gillette asked, “So, excited for Christmas?”

“Yes! Very much.”

Silverware jingled while it was rinsed. “I hope you like ham.”

“Of course.”

“Y’ever seen this show before? ‘Andy Griffith’?”

“No, not really.”

A pile of pots slammed. They heard Randy’s voice, then Mr. Gillette’s. 

“I like it.”

Ray said something they couldn’t hear. 

“It seems nice.”

“Y’know, I read -” she winced. A dish broke in the kitchen. “I read one time, somethin’ real crazy about this show.”

Mr. Gillette was yelling now. Krieger ignored it. “What was it?”

“Well, I don’t know if it’s true. I read it in a -” Ray yelled back and tossed a handful of cutlery into the drawer, “- tabloid magazine.”

“Yes?”

“I read that everybody hated working on this show.” Randy scampered through the living room, escaping the kitchen disaster. 

“Why?”

“Because Andy Griffith was real difficult. Everybody hated working with him.”

Ray stomped through the living room wordlessly. His father was shouting after him, cursing. 

Ray slammed his door. 

“Why?” said Krieger. His eyes were wide now. He maintained eye contact with Mrs. Gillette, trying not to flinch at the sounds still coming from the kitchen.

Mrs. Gillette’s lips were a tight line. “Because,” she said, “Andy Griffith was, and is to this day -” she stood up and turned to the kitchen and yelled,  _ “- a no-good, lousy ass!” _

Mr. Gillette said, “What’d you call me?”

“I called you a no-good lousy ass!”

Krieger got up and scurried to Ray’s room, shutting the door behind him (though it hardly helped muffle the shouts of Ray’s parents).

Ray was sitting on his bed, bundled in a blanket. He had the window opened a crack and he was smoking. Krieger sat next to him.

“You smoke?”

Ray just gave him annoyed look.

“ _ Liebe _ , I…” he had nothing to say. Actually, he had a lot to say, but no idea how.

Ray kissed him. It didn’t taste as good as usual because of the cigarette smoke, but Krieger melted into it. Ray broke it abruptly. 

“He’s gonna come in here soon,” he said. They sat together silently for several minutes. Ray didn’t finish his cigarette, but he put it out and twisted the burnt end so he could continue later. 

After a short while, Mr. and Mrs. Gillette stopped screaming, which seemed promising, until Mr. Gillette kicked the door open. 

He stood in the hall, peering at Ray with contempt. He said, “Slam this door again, and I’ll slam you.” 

Ray didn’t respond. Mr. Gillette left and slammed the door behind him.

Ray waited until he heard the door to his parents’ room close, then said, “Wait here.” He got up and left.

He was gone for a long time. Krieger tried to artificially induce some zoning-out by playing on his phone, but he was still shaking from the fight he’d witnessed. He was too rattled to get lost in a mindless game.

He sat up and listened for footsteps. The house was deathly quiet.

He decided to explore Ray’s room.  

First, he read all of the fortunes pinned to the bulletin board. They were mostly about true love, but some were about being daring, or traveling. Several were turned to the ‘Learn Chinese’ side. 

 

幸福, _ ‘xingfu’, happiness. _

鱼,  _ ‘yu’, fish. _

花,  _ ‘hua’, flower. _

 

On the desk were some trinkets and scented candles. There was a snowglobe of the Empire State Building with an apple skewered on its tip. It said, ‘THE BIG APPLE’.  

Krieger smelled the scented candles. Some smelled clean, like ocean waves or sandalwood, and others were sweet, like lavender or watermelon-coconut. These were mostly burnt. But the majority of them were musky, scented like lemon and mint, pimento wood, sage and aloe, sea salt and bourbon. These were unlit. 

In the desk drawer were notebooks filled with drawings, obviously from years ago. There was one that was filled with magazine clippings of fancy houses (some were modern, huge, with open floor plans and smooth lines, others were chic farmhouses with plaid decor and wood grain everywhere, and still others were tiny compressed apartments) and big cities and cars and occasionally a model from a Calvin Klein advertisement.

Krieger realized he was looking at Ray’s dream life. He slammed the notebook shut and put it away.

When Ray entered the room a long while later, Krieger was back on the bed, minding his own business. Ray lit a Georgia Peach scented candle.

“It stinks to high heaven like smoke,” he said.

Krieger looked at the candles. “Why are so many of those unused?”

Ray looked down at his collection and chuckled. “Oh, these ones. These ones smell like man, y’know? Like cologne. Musk and all that. I used to smell ‘em when I was lonely.” He laughed again and sat on the bed. They leaned back together, and Ray rested his head on his boyfriend’s chest. “Now I have you.”

“I saw your snowglobe. You’ve been to New York?”

“Yeah, once. Have you?”

“I live there.”

“What?!” He turned and looked at Krieger.

_ “Ja.” _

“Why’d you never tell me that?”

“I don’t know.”

“No, c’mon, babe. I’m serious. You’re so goddamn secretive. I’m not trying to start a fight, but you’ve...you’ve seen a lotta  _ my  _ family, after all. I wish you’d trust me.”

“I do! I trust you more than anyone I’ve ever known...” Ray waited for Krieger to go on. He could tell there was more. “There’s just a lot that I don’t know how to say.”

Ray looked up at him. He put a hand on Krieger’s warm chest. “Tell me in Portuguese.”

“What?”

“In Portuguese. I won’t be able to understand a word of it.”

Krieger didn’t respond for a long time. Ray stood and got in pajamas, lit a couple more candles, and shut the light. He didn’t think Krieger was going to say anything, and he certainly wasn’t going to push it, but when he laid down and pulled the blankets over them, Krieger started talking.

_ “Isso foi há muito tempo atrás.” _

He was caught off guard. “Huh?”

“I’m trusting you. Is that ok?”

“Oh, my God. Yes.” He cuddled in and listened.

Krieger talked for a long time. He spoke quietly. Ray truly had no idea what he was saying, but he listened intently to the sound of Krieger’s deep voice. His inflection and tone was mostly steady. Sometimes he sounded amused and nostalgic. But near the end, he got somber. Ray saw him frown. His voice shook a bit, and Ray held his hand. 

He knew Ray couldn’t understand him, but he still skipped the roughest part: the ending. He couldn’t bring himself to say it in any language. To think about it was one thing, but to say it out loud was to acknowledge that it really happened. He really witnessed it. Consequently, the story concluded a little abruptly.

Still, the Georgia Peach candle was entirely melted by the time he took a shuddering breath and said, “That’s it.”

Ray stared into his boyfriend’s eyes. Krieger stared back, more vulnerable than he’d ever been. Ray kissed him softly. 

It was only a minute before Krieger took hold of Ray and rolled over so he was on top.

Ray kissed him with more urgency now. Krieger ground himself against Ray. They got more and more intense, until Ray spoke.

“Babe?”

_ “Ja?” _

“This is it.”

“What?”

“This is the night.”

Krieger stared at him with dark eyes.

“I wanna have sex.”

“...Are you sure?”

“Yes. I love you.” He kissed him. “I wanna lose it to you.”

Krieger groaned in the back of his throat, savoring the way those words sounded when Ray whispered them so softly. “I love you, too.” 

Ray sat up, opened his bedside drawer, and produced a condom and lube.

“ _ Scheisse. _ You’ve got everything in there!”

“It’s from over the summer, when I thought Randy Muckler was...never mind.”

Ray looked so beautiful lit by the candlelight on one side and Christmas lights on the other. He bit his lip.

“So, uh...who’s gonna…”

Krieger bit the inside of his cheek; he hadn’t actually thought of that. “Um...” He looked down at Ray, following the lines of his muscles and curves, and a sense of pride washed over him. Ray was so gorgeous. “Can I top?”

Ray had hoped he would say that. He nodded, still biting his lip, and watched as Krieger took off his shirt, took the condom, and got ready. 

Krieger was very aware that his dick was being stared at, and floundered for a moment.  _ “Was?” _

Ray squirmed. “Are we...100% sure it’s gonna fit?” 

Krieger laughed awkwardly, blushing even more than he already was. “Ah, I’m flattered...” He leaned down and kissed Ray. “But we don’t have to do this.”

“I want to.”

Krieger nodded. He fumbled for a bit before deciding to apply lube to his fingers and carefully get to work.

Ray had always pictured himself as being totally cool and collected when his first time finally arrived—he wasn’t. He covered his mouth with his hands and gasped as Krieger tended to him. He couldn’t speak when Krieger asked if it hurt and if he was enjoying it, so he shook his head and nodded respectively.

After a few minutes, they were craving each other. 

“Are you ready?” asked Krieger.

Ray hesitated. “Can I see it again?”

Krieger smiled awkwardly and sat up. Ray looked him up and down, then nodded resolutely.

“I think I’m ready. But kiss me while you do it.”

His awkward smile broke into a wide grin, and he ran a hand through Ray’s hair affectionately. “Alright...I love you.”

He bent back over Ray and kissed him. When they began the actual act, Ray wrapped his legs around Krieger’s waist and screwed his eyes shut. He grabbed Krieger by the hair and held their foreheads together. It hurt at first, but Krieger was so gentle and attentive, occasionally sprinkling in a needless apology, and he started slow to make sure Ray was comfortable; before long, Ray was rocking his hips back to meet Krieger’s movements. Whatever he imagined sex would feel like, this was about a million times better. He’d liked to have reciprocated somehow - played with Krieger’s nipples or something - but he was much too distracted.

Krieger didn’t mind. He whispered praise and encouragement, and kissed Ray tenderly. He was so overwhelmed. He didn’t realize that sex could be used like this, to mutually express devotion. It was a pleasant surprise. He couldn’t help but murmur, in Portuguese and German and English (depending on his ability to remember how to form a cohesive sentence), “ _ You’re perfect. This is perfect.” _ This was love.

Neither of them wanted to move once it was over. After several long moments, Ray kissed Krieger sloppily and finally opened his eyes. 

“That was amazing.” His voice was higher than usual.

“You’re amazing.” Krieger’s voice was low.

“Really?”

“Mm... _ Ja.” _

They lay there panting for a while, lying on top of each other and passively appreciating the closeness.

Eventually, Ray sighed and said, “One of us has to blow out those candles.”

“I’ll do it, cherry blossom.”

Ray shivered. He adored that name. “Say that again.”

Krieger smiled and pressed kisses into the crook of Ray’s neck. “My little cherry blossom.” 

Ray hummed.

Krieger got up and blew out the candles. While he was at it, he slipped on his basketball shorts and left the room. He returned a minute later with some damp paper towels and cleaned himself and Ray. 

Finally, he flopped down next to his boyfriend, and they fell asleep tangled together.


	4. Pillow Princess

When Krieger woke up the next morning, Ray wasn’t next to him, but he smelled cooking. Ray could usually be found wherever food was, so Krieger rose, washed up, and followed the scent.

Ray was in the kitchen, shirtless (though he had his mother’s apron on) and trying his best. He was over the stove frying something.

Ray glanced back. “Hey, baby!”

“Uh…” Krieger looked left and right nervously.

“Nobody’s home. Daddy’s at work, Mama’s off getting last-minute groceries, and Randy’s...Randy-ing somewhere. So it’s just you and me.” He shovelled a pile of fried potato onto a plate. “Well, you, me, and _ latkes!  _ Happy Zot Hanukkah!”

Krieger hugged Ray from behind and scanned the mess of potato and onion. He smiled. “You’re the best,  _ Liebe _ .”

“I know.”

He and Krieger ate their latkes, though Ray insisted they eat on the couch. When Krieger asked if that was allowed, he replied, “No, but after last night, I can _ not  _ put my ass on a wooden chair.”

Krieger chuckled, and they ate in comfortable silence for a long time.

When he was finished, Ray put down his plate and said, “D’you feel...different?”

_ “Ja. _ I do.”

“Me, too.” There was another long pause. Ray grabbed a throw pillow and whacked Krieger.

“Hey!” He flung a chunk of potato at Ray.

“Hey,  _ you!” _

“What was that for?”

“‘Cause we gotta stop bein’ so awkward!” 

“Awkward…?” Krieger faltered, distracted by Ray fixing his hair. “Who’s being awkward?”

“We are. That’s what we get for being a couple of virgins.”

Krieger frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean we’re blushin’ like schoolboys because we’re freshly...y’know.”

“Well, we  _ are  _ schoolboys. But,  _ Liebe _ , you know I’m not a virgin.”

“Me neither, anymore.”

“No, I mean, I was already not a virgin when we - I mean, before last night.”

Ray kept smiling, but there was nothing behind it. “Huh?”

“You didn’t know that?”

“I did not.”

“Oh.  _ Oh, mein Gott,  _ I’m sorry. Do you mind?”

Ray thought about it. He couldn’t decide. “Who’d you lose it to?”

He hung his head. “Just some girl. Junior year.”

“Hm.” He considered this. Krieger certainly didn’t read as a boy who’d had a lot of sexual experience, but considering how totally captivating Ray found Krieger, he wasn’t surprised someone else had gotten there first. Plus, Ray supposed his many, many evenings going almost-all-the-way with whatever jock would have him pretty much added up to Krieger’s one time having sex.

“And, not to mention…” Krieger looked away shyly.

“Yeah, honey?”

He softened at the endearment. “I think what we did last night was something special, whether it was the first time or the second time or the three-hundredth time. Like I said, I  _ do  _ feel different.”

“You know what?”

_ “Was?” _

Ray climbed into his boyfriend’s lap and kissed him. “That’s why fuckin’ and making love are two totally different things.”

 

Archer tried to be quiet, but his mother still heard him tiptoeing into the kitchen for a taste of Woodhouse’s Christmas Eve dinner.

Without looking up from her book, she said, “You are going to make a terrible spy.” He didn’t respond. “Sit down, Sterling.”

He sat gingerly on the other side of the couch. Uncharacteristically, she reached over and pulled him closer. 

“Sometimes, I miss you when you’re away.”

“What’re you, drunk?”

“What’re you, a Baptist?” That was a yes. She held his head to her chest and rocked him.

Archer laid there awkwardly. Eventually he said, “Then why  _ do _ you?”

“Why do I what?”

Very quietly, like a much younger boy, he said, “Make me go?”

Malory didn’t respond for a long time. After awhile, she finally answered, “I have enemies. That’s part of being very, very good at this job. A sensation you’ll likely  _ never _ be familiar with.”

“So?”

_ “So _ , you’d be surprised how much more difficult it is to break into a boarding school than an apartment.”

Archer didn’t reply. He’d never realized that his mother’s job put him in danger. Frankly, he’d always underestimated the amount of danger  _ she _ was in when she ventured into the field. 

“Do you really think I’m going to be a bad spy?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Am I gonna work at the agency?”

“Oh, please. Once you graduate and my money isn’t going to that highway robbery they call  _ tuition _ , we’re moving out of this shoebox, and I’m starting my own damn agency.”

“Is that allowed? Don’t you need, like, permission?”

“It’s not a McDonald's franchise!”

“So I’m gonna work there, at your agency?”

“Who else is going to take you?”

“Can we bring Krieger with us to McEspionage?”

She thought for a moment. “That clone boy?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s not a bad idea...You know what they say about-”

“Please, don’t.”

“Oh, go to Hell.” She released him. He got up and headed to the kitchen. On his way out he heard her mutter,  _ “McEspionage.” _

 

It was late. Ray sighed and watched his breath rise to the ceiling. He was sitting on his bed, smoking in his underwear. His extended family had finally left (after hours of eating, drinking, and yelling), and he was trying to spend his last hour of Christmas Eve relaxing.

Krieger entered the room, rubbing his eyes. He was exhausted; the first half of the day was spent helping Mrs. Gillette cook (which was messy and complicated business), and the second half mostly consisted of being poked and prodded by Ray’s cousins.

He climbed straight into Ray’s lap and straddled him. He pulled the blanket up over the two of them and kissed Ray’s chest while Ray finished his cigarette. The moment Ray tossed the spent cigarette butt onto the floor, Krieger took him by the waist, laid him down on the bed, and clumsily kissed him anywhere he could. Ray smiled and closed his eyes while Krieger got all worked up. It had been a busy day, so they never got the chance to sneak off for even a tiny kiss. 

Ray thought he knew all there was to know about men, but he was very wrong. Since having sex, his relationship with Krieger took on a new quality. He couldn’t quite place it, but he recognized a definite strength. He was proud to be Krieger’s, and he wanted the whole world to know (though of course, they couldn’t, which frustrated him more than ever).

Neither of them spoke; they just sighed and hummed into each other’s mouths until they finished.

Krieger knew Ray was a bit of a pillow princess, but he didn’t mind. He loved touching his boyfriend, not to mention the pride he felt when he was able to really drive Ray crazy. He, too, felt like their relationship went a little deeper than it had a few days ago.

 

They woke up to Randy pounding on the door, yelling, “Presents!”

Krieger groaned. Ray used the sound as a guide and pressed his lips to Krieger’s without opening his eyes. Krieger grabbed Ray’s thigh and pulled him close. It was so warm and cozy, neither of them wanted to get up. But they had to.

Krieger opened his eyes. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, honey lamb.”

When they finally made their way into the living room, Randy was irate.

“What took y’all so long?!”

“Oh, shut up.”

Ray’s mother whacked him on the head, and his father said, “Ray  _ Gillit _ , don’t you talk like that on goddamn  _ Christmas!” _

A minute later, they were opening presents. The Gillettes were far from wealthy, but Ray, Randy, and Krieger weren’t exactly picky. Ray received a haul of lotions and a new jacket. Randy got the video games he’d been asking for. Krieger received a stocking stuffed full of candy (which he perceived as very thoughtful, though of course, they didn’t know how rarely he managed to get his hands on candy).

When she saw his face light up, Mrs. Gillette said, “I thought you’d like that!”

“I do. Thank you!” He got up and took something out of his pocket. He handed it to her. “And thank you for having me.”

Mrs. Gillette took the item. It was a card. Krieger had written  _ THANK YOU _ across the front in his best handwriting. When she opened the card, several origami flowers fell out.

She hugged Krieger and said, “Oh, darlin’, it’s a pleasure!” She went to hang it up on the refrigerator, calling, “Ain’t he just the sweetest thing?”

When Krieger sat back down, Ray turned to him and said, “She likes you, babe!”

Instantly, his stomach dropped. The word echoed in his mind... _ Babe! Babe! Babe! _ His mother was in the kitchen, Randy wasn’t paying attention, but his father had been looking right at them, and from the corner of his eye, Ray saw him raise his eyebrows.

He prayed his father hadn’t heard. He prayed that he somehow hadn’t actually said what he thought he had. But no such luck.

Calmly, Mr. Gillette said, “Ray, why don’t you go put your gifts away?”

Ray obeyed, but he was shaking. He waited several torturous minutes for his father to follow him into his room. When he did, he slammed the door behind him, and glared at Ray, seething.

“I don’t believe this.”

“Believe what?” Maybe there was hope.

“It’s too late for that. You ain’t foolin’ me.”

Ray was silent.

“Well? I was hopin’ it wasn’t true; you’ve been off this whole trip. I figured you were ashamed of home - and I understood. But there’s only so much I can ignore. You think I’m not gonna notice my oldest son calling a - another man  _ ‘babe’?” _

“I’m sorry.” He sounded far away to himself, like he was in a dream. He’d never heard his father say ‘babe’ before. It was strange.

“Damn right you’re sorry!” He stepped forward. “You think you can bring  _ that  _ into my house? You think I’m gonna tolerate that shit?!”

“I’m sorry.”

Ray’s father clenched his jaw tight and paced the small room.

“Daddy?”

“It’s that school! It’s that goddamn liberal-sciencey school! I told your mama it was nothin’ but you-know-whats and she told me they’d never turn you around like that.”

“That ain’t true.”

“Well, you weren’t no queer before we shipped your ass off!”

“Yeah, I was.”

Mr. Gillette stopped. “You  _ what?” _

Ray took a deep breath and looked up at his red-faced father. “I’m gay. I  _ been  _ gay.”

His father jolted when he heard the word. “You are not.”

“I am.”

Mr. Gillette stared for a long time. Ray’s room was small, and he could practically feel heat radiating off of his father. His fear grew and grew the longer they stood there.

Ray saw his father’s sudden movement, then heard a loud crack and felt a pang in his fist. 

He realized with a start that he’d just punched his father square in the face.


	5. Thanks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> JUST NOTICED I NEVER FINISHED THIS!!!!!!!! YALL....

Ray didn’t take his eyes off his father. He watched him stumble backward, clutching his cheek and cursing. His father stood there panting for what felt like minutes. Then, he grabbed a candle, threw it to the ground, and stormed out. 

Ray dropped to the floor. He was shivering. He knew it wasn’t from the cold, but he climbed into bed and cocooned himself in his blanket anyway. He laid there with his eyes shut tight.

Krieger must have passed Mr. Gillette in the hall, because Ray heard his father slam his fist against the wall and shout, “Stay outta there!”

He wanted to run right out of the house, run miles away, through the solitary woods. He wanted to climb deep into his bed, into a hidden tunnel where no one could reach him. 

He wanted  _ Krieger _ . 

Quietly and carefully, he got up and tiptoed through the hall, and poked his head in the living room. Krieger was sitting on the couch by himself, halfway through a Twix bar. Ray scurried over and sat next to him.

_ “Shh!” _ he said, before Krieger had a chance to speak.

Krieger whispered, “Am I in trouble? Because your dad-”

“He knows about us.”

Krieger’s eyes widened.  _ “Scheisse…” _

“Yeah.”

“Let’s go.”

“Huh?!”

“Let’s run. I know where we can go, they won’t find us unless we want them to.”

“Honey, no.”

“Why? We can make it!”

“No, baby, I can’t do that. I can’t back down now.”

Krieger looked away. “I guess you’re right.”

“It’s gonna be okay.”

“I know. I just want to protect you, cherry blossom...”

Before Ray had a chance to respond, his father entered from the kitchen, holding one cold beer in his hand and another to his bruising cheek. He looked at Ray and Krieger disgustedly, and nodded toward Ray’s room. Ray exchanged a solemn look with his boyfriend and followed his father.

Mr. Gillette sat on Ray’s desk chair. Ray sat on the bed and tentatively accepted the beer his father offered. 

“Are you alright?” said Ray.

His father sighed. “It’s my own fault.”

“No, Daddy. You’re a great father.”

“That ain’t what I meant.”

Ray took a sip of beer.

“You remember your Uncle Terry?”

“Kinda. Didn’t he die while back?”

Mr. Gillette smiled sadly. “He ain’t dead. He's just like you.”

“...Oh.”

“Uh-huh. This is my punishment, y’know? For not minding my own business…”

Ray drew his lips into a tight line. This wasn’t going great, but at least he wasn’t screaming. 

“My own brother. But what else was I gonna do?”

“I don’t know.”  _ Not cut him off for 15 years,  _ he thought.

He sighed again, and took a long sip of beer. “I did wrong by my brother, and this is the Lord’s retribution.” He leaned forward and put his hand on his son’s shoulder. “I won’t do wrong by you.”

“Huh?”

“It’s a sin. But it’s your sin to fix.  _ My _ sin would be to desert my son.”

Ray nodded. His father was still homophobic, but he was accepting him as best he could. Ray was shocked. “Thank you, Daddy.”

Mr. Gillette grunted and patted his son’s shoulder. Ray held out his beer, and they clinked bottles and chugged. 

“I just got one question about...you and that boy.”

“Yeah?”

“Who’s the, uh...Y’know…?”

“What?”

“Which one of y’all is the girlfriend?”

“Ew!”

“I just mean in general!”

There was obviously a lot wrong with the question, but Ray felt it was best to just tell his father what he wanted to hear. “I guess  _ he _ is.”

“Really?”

“Mm-hm.”

“Alright. Good. That’s good.” His father patted him again and left. Ray heard him say to Krieger, “Keep that door open.”

A second later, Krieger appeared in the doorway. 

“What happened,  _ Liebe?” _

Ray patted the bed next to him, and Krieger approached, careful to avoid the shattered glass candleholder on the floor.

Ray took Krieger’s pinky and intertwined it with his. “It went as well as it coulda.”

“Are you…?”

“I’m okay. We’re safe. I mean, he still doesn’t  _ get _ it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Y’know. He doesn’t get how this works.”

“Maybe you need to put it in terms he’d understand.”

“I would literally rather die than try and explain it.”

Krieger was floundering. “Well, actions speak louder than words.”

It wasn’t his best, so he was surprised when Ray snapped his fingers and said “That's right!”

_ “Was?” _

“I think I got an idea...but you might not like it.”

 

Ray led prayer that evening at Christmas dinner. Everyone held hands around the table, and Ray was heartened by the sight of his mother gripping Krieger’s hand tightly.

“...Amen.” His father nodded to Ray from the opposite head of the table, then handed his wife his plate. It was time for Ray’s idea to become action.

He handed Krieger his own plate, and Krieger began shoveling food onto it. Ray felt bad, but when he passed the plate back, Krieger was smiling sweetly. He was rather enjoying the submissive domestic role. Ray rolled his eyes. 

Across the table, Mr. Gillette raised his eyebrows and looked away.

Krieger did similar things throughout the rest of the visit. He made Ray’s plates and poured his drinks (they agreed Ray would drink only water, because Krieger was paranoid he’d refill the cup with the wrong beverage; he’d once had a bad liquid mix-up back at the compound). They weren’t allowed to share a room anymore, so every night before retreating to his bed, Ray sat next to Krieger on the couch and said a nice goodnight.

Before church one day, Ray walked into the kitchen and stuck his chest out to Krieger. He stood and tied Ray’s tie, then fixed him a breakfast plate as he sat down. Ray reached to tuck his tie away from the syrupy plate, but Krieger slapped his hands away and did it himself. “Thanks,” he said, grinning, as Krieger shoved the tie into his shirt.

“No problem.” Ray gazed at Krieger, who piled his own plate with waffles, bacon, and eggs. He was the type of boy who could eat a house, and the shed for dessert. Ray thought it was adorable. 

He glanced up and saw his father staring at the two of them from across the table. He didn’t look happy, but he looked like he was getting the idea. It was difficult for him, Ray knew, but maybe he was beginning to realize that they simply loved each other. 

 

The night before they had to return to school, Ray crept into the living room. The only light was the Christmas lights outside the window. Krieger was just a lump with a puff of hair sticking out from beneath several thick blankets. He looked up when Ray slipped beneath them.

_ “Liebe?” _

“Hey. I missed you.”

“Are you allowed out here?”

“It’s fine.”

He and Krieger rearranged themselves until they were cuddled up next to each other, bundled up under the covers. 

Ray kissed Krieger’s nose and whispered, “You’re like a furnace.”

Krieger grinned sleepily and kissed the corner of his boyfriend’s mouth. Ray’s hands rose to stroke Krieger’s cheeks, and he took Krieger’s bottom lip lightly between his teeth. 

Krieger hesitantly fidgeted with the waistband of Ray’s flannel pajama pants. Ray guided Krieger’s hand with his own.

Krieger chuckled. “Babe!”

“Hm?”

“Are you not wearing underwear?”

“D’you feel any?”

“Why…?”

“Ease of access, honey,” he shrugged. 

Krieger pulled the waistband down, and scooted backwards on the couch.

“What're you doin’?”

“Can I blow you?”

Ray blinked. He listened for signs his family. The house was silent, so he nodded.

Before he began, Krieger took Ray’s hand and laid it on his head. Ray tightened his grip in his boyfriend’s hair as Krieger worked, and when he looked up at him, wide-eyed and blushing, he was sure he'd never see anything hotter. 

When they were finished, Krieger kissed Ray deeply. Ray rubbed his boyfriend’s back and whispered praise; Krieger had swallowed eagerly, something Ray had never experienced, and he wanted to make his gratitude known. 

Krieger leaned on Ray’s shoulder. Ray watched his face soften as he drifted off to sleep. He had such long eyelashes. When he saw Krieger’s lips part, he knew he was going to wake up to some drool on his chest, but he didn’t care. 

 

Archer sat in the back of the cab, fiddling with the sleeve of his new jacket. It was deep blue, perfectly tailored, and already a little frayed at the edges from his nails. He’d gotten it for Christmas. His mother didn’t end up seeing him open his gifts; she was called into work. She was gone for Christmas, all the way through to the New Year. She wasn’t there to see him off, which was lucky. 

Whatever she had to say, Archer was sure he couldn’t stomach it. 

 

The ride back to school was just Ray, his father, and his boyfriend. It was a long and awkward, and no one really spoke until they arrived. 

“Thank you, again, for having me,” said Krieger. 

Mr. Gillette gripped the steering wheel tightly. For a second, Ray was scared that it would all be ruined at the last moment: his father would change his mind, pull him out of school, send him to some kind of camp…

But after a moment, the man held out his hand and gave Krieger a firm handshake.

Krieger hopped out of the car to let the Gillette men say goodbye. 

Ray turned to his father and said, “Thank you.”

He grunted. 

“Daddy, I...I’m sorry.” He waited a long time for his father to respond. 

“I can't say I'm okay with all this. I wish it was different, y'know, you're a handsome boy...But, I think I’m gonna give your Uncle Terry a call.”

Ray smiled. He was so proud of his father. “I’ll see ya.”

“G’bye.”

“Love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Ray hopped out of the car and trotted inside to meet Krieger. 

“You ok?”

Ray nodded. They signed in, and went to unpack. 

When they arrived at Krieger’s floor, Ray said, “Why don’t you come upstairs?”

Krieger gave him a strange look. Ray usually never let him in his dorm room.

“Cyril’s gone til classes start. I could use the company.”

“Are you sure? You usually love your alone time,  _ Liebe.” _

“Yeah. I mean, I dunno. I just feel like…I don’t  _ know.” _ There were a lot of emotions rushing through his mind. Their relationship seemed much more serious now that they’d traveled together, met Ray’s family, shared a bed, had sex...It seemed much bigger, much more adult. After all that, it seemed so juvenile to go to their little rooms, unpack their little suitcases, and put on their little uniforms. (Meeting in the locker room for hickeys and blowjobs didn’t seem unappealing, necessarily, but it was certainly no longer ideal.)

Krieger took Ray’s hand. “I understand.”

They ended up going to Krieger’s room first, where Ray went to town rearranging the closet and trying on Krieger’s clothes. These shenanigans cost Krieger a hoodie and 2 T-shirts (“Honey, I’ve never even seen you wear this!” Ray said, slipping on a giant Styx T-shirt. He grabbed a rubber band and tied the hem up so his midriff was exposed. “What a waste!”) but he didn’t mind. 

There were a lot of things other people found annoying that Krieger didn’t mind, or even enjoyed. 

He watched Ray cuff his jeans and pose in the mirror, going on and on about the state of his room, and how he needed a special routine for his hair and skin care, and a closet organizer, and a shoe rack (“I have two pairs of shoes!” “Exactly, hon, imagine losing one!”).

Krieger smiled. That’s just love, he guessed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it realistic? No. Is it the ending i want for ray and krieger? Yes absolutely. So sick of gritty "it's me or my family" storylines.   
> Leave a review if u enjoyed. I wrote this a long time ago it's so weird to think about that time. Like i wrote this in Feb-March 2018 and waited til around christmas 2018 to publish. It seems so quaint to me now!


End file.
